


In Their Bedroom in London (And Everything is Not Okay)

by TJ_The_Broken



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Just a little hms for extra angst, M/M, as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJ_The_Broken/pseuds/TJ_The_Broken
Summary: (Forgive me, I'm yet to read Lady's Guide so this is a fic based on my assumptions of where the characters will be once they reach London.)Hope you enjoy this sweet sweet angst Arwyn!Monty is totally fine. He's not dying. Felicity promised this wasn't dying. But being left alone for days on end, well, things start to feel pretty bad. Monty just wants Percy to come home.
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22
Collections: TGGTVAV Secret Santa exchange 2020





	In Their Bedroom in London (And Everything is Not Okay)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenthunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/gifts).



Monty was sure he was dying. Almost certain of it. He could barely breathe. His throat was closing in on itself. His vision was blurring on the edges. He was definitely dying. This was it. The end of his life. He'd just be gone. No more him. No more Percy. Finito.

Except, this wasn't the first time he'd been so sure he was dying that week. It was only Thursday and he'd already been so incredibly certain eight times. So, chances were, he wasn't dying. Chances were, he was having what Felicity had called a panic attack. Did he know why? No. Did his body seem to care? No.

There wasn’t even anything to panic about. Not really. Percy was going to be fine. Monty knew that. Felicity and him would be back soon with the latest treatment for his epilepsy. Something that would hopefully help him recover from his seizures easier. Percy was going to be fine. He could handle himself. But that didn’t stop Monty from being on the floor of the room unable to breathe.

Monty had dealt with stuff like this his whole life, he should be an expert by now. And, at one point, he was. He was able to all but stop them after Eton. The biggest help was drinking though and he had stopped that now. And Percy helped. Percy helped so much. Monty hadn’t realised how much he was relying on Percy to keep his almost dying at bay. Until he was gone. It was a day after Percy left when Monty got hit harder than he had in a very long time. And it hadn’t let up. Monty didn’t know what to do. What _was_ he meant to do? There was nothing that worked except Percy and a good whiskey. Not even a good one. Not even a whiskey. Just anything that would hurt on the way down and give him back his ability to breathe.

Monty let out a yell and punched the wall. He wouldn’t. He refused to go back to the person he was. Percy and him had come so far.

But Monty just didn’t know what else to do to fucking breathe. If he didn’t soon, he was sure he’d black out. Or die. It felt like he was dying.

Monty pressed a hand hard into his chest and shut his eyes tight. What did Percy tell him to do when he was panicking?

_Percy brushed Monty’s hair from his face and ran his hand along his scarred cheek, “Deep breaths, darling, with me now.” He took a few deep breaths and Monty did his best to follow along, “Slow down. What’s happening?”_

_Monty tried to speak but found himself tripping over the words and something seizing his throat._

_“It’s okay, hey, breathe with me.” More deep breaths, “Where are you?”_

_“Here.”_

_“Where’s here?”_

_“Our bedroom, London.”_

_“Who am I?”_

_“Percy Newton.”_

_“That’s right. Who are you?”_

_“Henry Montague.”_

_“You’re Monty, and I’m Percy. And we are here, in our bedroom in London. We are together. And everything is okay.”_

But they weren’t together now. Percy wasn’t here. And everything wasn’t okay. Monty’s limbs felt like they were buzzing. He knew that if he tried to stand up, he might not be able to. He could barely keep his eyes open. He was dying. This time, he’d actually die. This was the worst one. The absolute worst.

Maybe it was because the longer Percy was gone, the worse Monty felt. Maybe it was because Percy said he would have written by now. Maybe it was because Felicity said they would only take a week at most and that deadline was approaching steadily. Maybe it was all of it. Whatever the case, Monty could be looking forward to much much more of these before the week’s end. Almost death after almost death. It was enough to make anyone wish it would just become actual death. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t. He knew Felicity had left at least three medical kits there in the past. Three medical kits with alcohol for sterilization. Three bottles was enough alcohol to hold him over for the rest of the week if he was careful. It’d been so long, he could probably get drunk on half a bottle.

No. NO. He _wouldn’t_ do it. He refused. Besides, Percy had put them away somewhere and Monty hadn’t cared enough to know where. So there was no point even considering it. But just the planning. The thought of actually doing it had calmed him enough that he could stand up and splash some water on his face before returning to bed.

Monty woke up drenched in sweat and in the middle of another almost death. He laid there for what felt like hours, being too aware of every part of his body and his throat feeling like it was closing over. This one wasn’t so bad but he couldn’t relax and eventually just got up to make himself breakfast even though the sun was yet to rise.

On today’s agenda was:

  * Make breakfast
  * Write yet another letter to Percy that he can’t send because he doesn’t know where they are
  * Get lunch from the local tavern
  * Go for a walk
  * Look at the upcoming plays and productions
  * Get dinner from the local tavern
  * Attempt to read more of Percy’s favourite book
  * Attempt to sleep



His life was so dull without Percy. And he had more almost deaths throughout the day and he almost ordered himself an ale at lunch and dinner. But the biggest one happened when he was reading Percy’s book. 

_'there is the heart of love, the pulsing rush of longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible— magic to make the sanest man go mad'_

It was so simple but it made Monty’s chest fill with emotions he didn’t know how to feel and couldn’t make go away. He clutched the book to his chest and he sobbed. And the sobbing turned into being unable to breathe. And then he couldn’t stand. And he couldn’t see. And he felt like, when he wasn’t gasping for air, he was screaming. But no sound could escape his lips. His mind turned over and over. Beginning at a longing for Percy and destroying itself into something else entirely. Somehow, Monty thought of Felicity and Scipio and Georgie. He thought of the Duke and the gunshot and actually almost dying. He thought of Versialles and all the other times he had hurt Percy. He thought of his father. And he thought about how badly and how often he had wished to die. And now he was here. Going through yet another almost death. How pathetic. He was so pathetic. Worthless. He felt his own thoughts punch him like he was back at home. Henri Montague Senior hitting him over and over. 

“Worthless boy. Can’t even last a day without your sodomite. Pathetic. You are a shame on this family and a shame on this world. You think he loves you? You have brought him into this life of sin. He is only bound to you because without each other you are now worse than dogs who sleep in their piss. He’s not even here. And look at you. You’re falling apart. You were never going to survive without me. Never. And this is just proof.”

“Shut up!” Monty threw the book across the room, aiming for the figure his mind had conjured.

It was suddenly beside his face, sneering at him, “I won’t because you know it’s true. You know how worthless you are. How much you hold him back. How much you have thrown your life away. You will never be better. You are an arrogant fool and you deserve all this pain.”

Monty swung a punch at the image of his father and collided with a wall. Pain flared through his hand and he swore, stumbling to his feet. He had to find the medical kits. It could be serious and Felicity had taught him how to wrap things as a temporary solution so he wouldn’t make things worse.

“You think you can keep living like this?” Henri Montague Senior appeared in front of him, “You will destroy yourself, boy, and have no choice but come crawling back to me.”

Monty tried to ignore it but the thoughts just kept swarming, spilling from the lips of his imagined father. 

“Why does Felicity even still help you? She should’ve left you to die the moment you got shot. Actually, before that even. You are nothing but a burden on them both. Pathetic. Worthless.”

Where had Percy put those damn things?

“He knew you would hurt yourself on something eventually. So why would he hide them? Unless he wants you to have no release from that pain. Unless he wants you to experience at least some of the pain he feels every time he has a fit.”

Monty rummaged through the house, thoughts flying through him so fast and frequently that he almost collapsed again multiple times. Eventually, Monty found them. Placed behind a stack of spare blankets in a cupboard.

“You’re destructive. You’ll destroy everything you touch. Even yourself. Especially Percy.”

He wrapped his hand carefully.

“You are _pathetic_. You aren’t even doing this right.”

And then, as he went to put it away the bottle glinted in the candlelight. Henri Montague Senior fell quiet. And then exploded with sound. There were three or four of him. All shouting. They told him how worthless he was. How pathetic. All the things that had been consuming him for hours. But one leant in close to his ear. Monty could almost convince himself he could feel his breath on his neck. His instincts kicked in and he remained as still as possible.

“Do it,” the figure breathed, “You know you want to. You know it’ll make all of this stop. You’ll stop dying. Just until Percy gets back. It’s so easy. Do it.”

Monty picked up the bottle. The thoughts got louder. How pathetic he was. But that one Henri Montague Senior gripped his shoulder tight and kept whispering encouragement. What was the point in not? He was pathetic and worthless anyway.

Monty undid the stopper and downed half the bottle immediately.

Percy and Felicity had been waiting for about ten minutes before Monty opened the door. At first, things didn’t seem amiss. Monty let them in and was already in a back and forth banter with Felicity.

“It took you long enough,” Felicity said as she walked past him, “What on earth could you have been so occupied with here alone?”

“Maybe I was just dreading seeing your face,” He hugged Percy, “But not yours, darling.”

Percy smelt the alcohol but figured Monty probably had some drunkard spill some on him and hadn’t washed his clothes.

It wasn’t until they were in the house did Percy start to notice things. For starters, Monty was swaying, he could barely walk in a straight line, his eyes were half lidded, and he was being way too touchy with him considering they were around Felicity.

Felicity put things together pretty quickly too, “Monty, are you alright?”

“Oh shut up, Feli, no one cares about you.”

Felicity frowned, he hadn't been that particularly harsh in a while.

“Did you find the treatment?” Monty mused, tracing Percy’s freckles with his bandaged hand.

Percy and Felicity made eye contact. She was still frowning.

“It’s a long story… Monty, dear,” Percy put his hands on both his shoulders, “Are you sure you’re okay? Your hand…”

Monty smiled at him, “Of course. Just hurt it.” He gasped, eyes lighting up, “You know what we should do! Go to the tavern to celebrate!”

“Okay,” Felicity said sternly, “Okay, Monty. We just have to sort out our luggage first. How about you take a seat out here?”

Monty hesitated but nodded, “You’re… okay. Yes.” And he sat on the armchair so heavily it almost tipped over.

Percy and Felicity made their way to the room but found their answers before they got there. Felicity’s medical kits were on the floor, the empty bottles lying next to them.

Felicity shook her head, “That’s really strong stuff…” She turned to Percy, “We have to find out when he started and how much he drank in a short amount of time. If this has just happened and he’s drunk all of these, he’s at serious risk of alcohol poisoning.”

Percy looked at the bottles and felt everything inside him twist. He should’ve listened when Monty kept saying his panic attacks were getting worse. Of course he would have trouble managing them on his own.

Back in the room, Monty was drinking out of a flask. 

Felicity immediately ran over and snatched it from him, “Are you mad?!” She looked furious, “Monty, where did you even get this?”

Monty looked disorientated, “It’s not a big deal, Feli. Now shove off and go read some books… and give that back.” He made a grab for it but missed without Felicity even having to move.

Percy knelt next to him, “Monty, please listen to me. When did you drink those bottles from the medical kits?”

Monty shifted, “I can handle my liquor, Perce.”

Percy’s chest ached, “I know you can.” He said gently, “This isn’t what this is about. When did you drink them?”

Monty was having trouble keeping eye contact, “I… I don’t remember.”

Felicity muttered something.

“That’s okay. Can you tell me how much you’ve had?”

Monty looked at him for a long time, “The medi-cal ones. I was… at the tavern… I… I don’t know.”

Percy took his hand and rubbed slow circles on it, “That’s okay, darling. How about we head to bed, okay?”

Monty squinted at the window, “The sun is out.”

Percy felt really bad about it but he took a breath and lied to poor drunk Monty, “No, it’s not, darling. That’s a street lamp.”

“Oh…” After a bit Monty let Percy help him up and to bed. Percy spoke with Felicity outside the room.

“I’m still worried but he doesn’t seem drunk enough to really be concerned yet. If he starts throwing up, however, get me immediately,” Felicity seemed to run over what she said in her mind before nodding and looking back at Percy, “This is going to be really hard for him.”

Percy ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, it is.”

She nodded again, “Maybe wait until he’s sober to tell him about the treatment.”

Percy nodded too, “Get some food, Felicity.” He went back to the room, undressed, and climbed into bed beside Monty.

Immediately, Monty pressed himself against his chest, “You’re here. I’m here. Everything is okay.” He sounded like he was about to cry.

“Oh Monty…” Percy stroked his hair, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Monty seemed very close to falling asleep, “‘S okay. I stopped dying.”

That sentence and worry for Monty kept Percy awake for a while after Monty had drifted off. But, eventually, he did the same.

The two were both woken up later in the night to Monty having a panic attack.

“Hey,” Percy sat up and forced Monty to do the same, “hey. Breathe with me.”

They both took a few deep breaths.

Monty was looking at him with confusion, “You’re… here? Or are you my imagination?” He looked around as if he might see someone else.

Percy stroked his arm, “Yes, I’m here. I got home earlier.”

Monty massaged his head, “I…”

“You started drinking again.”

He looked at Percy with surprise and then immense guilt, “I did. I… I’m sorry. What have I done? I’m so _pathetic_!”

Percy immediately took his hands, “No, Monty, no. Stop.”

Monty looked at him and Percy could see the pain in his eyes.

“You made a mistake but it was in a time of vulnerability. You had been telling me the panic attacks were getting worse and I left you alone anyway.”

“No…” Monty shook his head, “No, this isn’t your fault. How can it be? When I’m the one who destroyed your life and couldn’t even keep my promise to stop drinking?”

“Destroyed my life? Monty, you _saved_ my life. You save my life every single day by just being you. You are so much better than the person you were before but I loved you then and I will continue to love you even when you make mistakes.”

Monty didn’t say anything for a while and Percy could see his alcohol addled mind turning. Eventually he just settled on, “Oh.”

Percy brushed his hair behind his ear and lingered on the scars, “Maybe we both still have some things to work through. For now, how about we wait for you to be completely sober and then have a celebration dinner?”

Monty nodded and sunk into Percy’s embrace, “What day is it?”

“Tuesday. Our trip took a little bit longer than we thought.”

Monty sat up again, incredibly alarmed, “Tuesday? Are you certain? It was just Friday. I swear it was Friday when I… Oh no… I drank one of Felicity’s…”

“One?” Percy laughed, “My love, in the space between Friday and today, you drank all three.” 

Monty laid back, “Well, fuck.”

Percy laid back too and once again rubbed slow circles on his hand, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We will get through this however long it takes.”

“I wish I could just be okay. Who knows what I did in those four days.”

“Well, you definitely have some apologies to give Felicity.”

“For drinking away her medical supplies?”

“You were quite rude to her as well. More than just banter.”

Monty groaned, “I hate apologising to Felicity.”

Percy poked him in the ribs.

Monty smiled at him and then snuggled closer, “At least you found something to ease your pain.”

Percy decided not to respond, instead placing a kiss on Monty’s hand. Eventually, the two of them fell asleep. There. In their bedroom. In London. With each other. And Everything was okay. Even if some things weren’t.


End file.
